Temporary

“A little extreme don’t you think?” I said, gesturing to the empty bar.

“If I’d given you my phone number, would you have called?” My silence was answer enough and he smirked with knowing. “I didn’t think so. Rarely do I waste effort on doomed ventures. I prefer the direct approach to success.”

“Catchy — you should put that on a business card.”

“Business is what I’m about. Please, have a seat.”

I slowly sank into the chair, wary. “What kind of business could you and I possibly do together?" I asked. “Are you thinking of opening a bar because basically I have cocktail waitressing and bartending experience.”

“I’m sure there are other things you are good at.”

“Well I guess if you really want to know, I'm pretty good at making poor decisions and jumping to conclusions. Is that a skill set you can put to work?”

He chuckled, his eyes glinting as he poured two shots, sliding one toward me. “You’re funny. Not many are willing to speak so freely to me.”

I smirked. “Why not? Are you a prince or something?”

“No.”

He didn't elaborate and his tone didn’t encourage more questions. My gaze went to the shot he’d poured. I never accepted drinks that I didn’t pour myself.

“What’s this really about?” I asked. “You know this is totally creepy, right? Just cut to the chase and tell me what you really want so we can get this over with.”

“Good. I hate chit-chat,” he said, pleased that I wanted to get to the point. “My name is Gage Rochester. I hate social media as well as the paparazzi so chances are slim that you’ve ever heard of me but if it did interest me, I’d land in the top 100 Richest Men in America.”

“Only America?” I lifted my brow with healthy sarcasm.

But he didn’t bristle at my sarcasm, instead replied, “I believe there’s a Saudi Prince that edged me out of the Top 100 Richest Men in the World list but I can still pay my bills, so I don’t mind.”

“Is this where I act impressed that you can afford to rent out a dive bar for the night?” I asked, the corners of my mouth twitching. Secretly, I was a little impressed but the man didn’t need to know that.

Gage shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him whether I was impressed or not, he’d simply been stating fact. “It's not often that I find people interesting. People bore me quickly but there’s something about you that I like. You haven’t bored me yet.”

“Oh, such praise. I'm humbled I've piqued your interest. If you came for tricks, sorry to disappoint you but I’m no show pony.”

But the way his gaze slid down my body made me think differently. There was a banked hunger in his eyes that made the temperature rise in the room. I didn’t want to feel anything for the crazy rich man, much less anything resembling desire, but he was nice to look at, I couldn’t deny it. I deliberately flicked my gaze away.

“How’d you end up in Jimmy’s?”

“The most interesting people are the ones who don't hide behind their money,” he answered, downing his shot. “Plus it reminds me of where I grew up.”

I scoffed, “Are you saying you grew up poor? Or you grew up around drunks?”

His cool smile was my only answer. Okay, so maybe both. “What about me intrigued you?" I asked, playing the game, but sue me, I was curious, too.

“Two weeks ago, I watched you shut down a mean drunk trying to grab your ass. You broke his finger.”

I remembered the incident. “I don't enjoy being touched without permission. He learned that the hard way."

The guy had been typical of Jimmy’s usual bottom-feeder. If given half the chance, the guy would happily rape a woman if he thought he wouldn’t get caught. I’d felt zero guilt for breaking his bones.

“He isn’t likely to make the same mistake twice.”

I smirked. “Not with me, he won’t.”

Gage chuckled, that gleam in his eye brightening as he followed with a bold as fuck query that sent a shock wave down my spine.

“So tell me…how do you like to be touched…when permission has been granted?”

5

I stared, his bald question leaving no room for misunderstanding. The heat between us intensified, nearly crackling with tension. There was something about him that screamed SEX even if I didn’t want to think of his naked body working mine.

I wasn’t the type to go Marilyn-Monroe-breathless but my heart skipped a beat when his gaze pinned mine.

“Pretty bold don’t you think?” I finally shot back, shaking my head at his balls. “Maybe you’re not my type.” I added with a shrug, “Maybe I’m a lesbian.”

“Are you?”

I couldn’t lie. “No.”

He laughed. “Okay, then where’s the harm in telling me what I want to know?”

“Because sharing that information would imply that I was interested in letting you touch me — which I’m not.”

Another lie. He had sexy on blast but this was exactly how problems started in my life. I ignored common sense and went with my feelings. Not anymore. Nope. Going to use my head from now on.

Mom and dad would be so proud. Ha!

But Gage had an agenda and he was putting plans in motion, no matter my opinion on the matter. “I want you, Mari,” Gage stated, leaning back, kicking his leg out casually beneath the scratched and ruined table. “Name your price.”

“N-name my price?” I stuttered, incredulous. “What does that mean? And what makes you think I even have a price that I would offer? I’m not a vendor at a flea market, ready to haggle over an item…especially when that item is me.”

His smirk did crazy things to my belly even as his answer pissed me off fresh. “Everyone has a price. Even you. I'm willing to bet your price is a lot lower than you think it would be.”

Oh, hell no, what? “Did you just insult me?”

“Not at all. Just sharing a bit of what I know about human nature.”

“Well, you don’t know shit about me,” I said, rising. “I’m done with this ridiculous game. I don’t care how rich you are, you can’t buy me.”

Fuck Manny and his greed. He could find someone else to pander to the rich asshole, I was out.

“You’re broke. You’ll be homeless by the end of the month because you can’t pay your rent and something tells me you aren’t going to make enough in tips to get what you need by month’s end.”

His calm voice at my back froze my feet. I turned slowly. “How the fuck do you know my personal business?”

He waved away my question as if I were naive. “Nothing is private, sweetheart. I can get everything I need to know about you with the push of a button. Financial records are the easiest.” He paused only to punctuate his point. “Is my intel wrong? Do you have a secret stash of cash in your mattress that you’re holding onto for a rainy day?”

No, he wasn’t wrong but holy hell, what the fuck? “I’m pretty sure what you did was illegal but I’m very certain poking around in someone else’s bank account is, at the very least, rude.”

He shrugged as if he didn’t care. “Perhaps,” he admitted, offering, “I’m not judging you; I’m here to offer you a fair sum of money for your services.”

As if that made it any better.

“Yeah? Well, I’m judging you pretty hard right now,” I shot back, trying not to think of the wad of cash in Manny’s office.

I folded my arms across my chest. Maybe he was offering me a job? Like a legit way to earn some cash. I guess I’d be stupid to walk away before learning the details. “Money to do what?” I asked, giving him a sidewise glance so he knew I still thought he was shady.

He gestured for me to return to my seat. I didn’t want to — my dignity screamed at me to give him the middle finger and stomp out — but the realist in me, set my feet in motion.

The least I could do was listen, right? Maybe he needed a bartender or waitress for some fancy shindig.

“Spend the night with me.”

/> So much for something legit.

“Excuse me?” He didn’t deign to repeat himself, leaving me to stare. “Spend the night with you…to do what?”

“Whatever I choose.”

Ohhh, hell no. “No thanks. I’m not stupid. No amount of money will replace my face if you decide you want to wear it.”

At that he actually laughed. “See? I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.”

“I’m not kidding. No way.”

He sobered but the faint reminder of his amusement sparkled in his eyes as he scribbled a number on a bar napkin and pushed it toward me. “Since you wouldn’t name a price…I’ll start the opening offer.”

Opening offer? What was this Sotheby’s, Dive Bar Style? “I’m not for fucking sale,” I told him, irritated that he refused to listen. I opened my mouth to tell him to stuff the napkin where the sun didn’t shine but my gaze snagged on the amount.

So many zeroes.

The spit dried in my mouth. Was he insane? I stared, incredulous.

“You’re fucking with me. No one would pay that kind of money for the night.”

“I would.”

“Why?”

“My reasons are my own. Just say yes.”